


Pendulum

by saucerfulofsins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-31 16:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucerfulofsins/pseuds/saucerfulofsins
Summary: Keith finds a Space Mall shop that sells sex toys, andof coursehe's curious about what they can do.He just ends up with a little more than he bargained for.





	Pendulum

He stumbles upon the shop in a back alley of the space mall.

The windows are tinged dark and he can barely look inside, although the storefront is clean and well kept. The text on the windows translates to “_U-topia, for all your private needs_”—clearly more discreet than covert.

Keith’s been inside sex shops a few times before, first lying about his age and then later not needing to, doing little more than buying lube and, on one occasion, a small plug that he used a few times before he left earth. It’s probably still in a box under his bed, if the shack is still standing.

_This is just research_, he tells himself, pushing open the door. _Maybe something useful on a mission_. Excuses, an illicit thrill low in his belly as he sets foot across the small shop’s threshold.

The lady at the counter looks mostly Unilu, with a crop-top showing off her pale violet skin as she chews on a piece of gum and flips through a magazine. She doesn’t look up as Keith avoids the shelves with magazines—he’s not particularly interested in seeing aliens fuck—and walks over to the wall of toys on display.

The first thing which strikes him is the variety in _size_. Not just the dildos and vibrators, but also what he thinks are the cock rings. The toys are all ordered the way clothes or shoes might be, in neat rows of the same model that range from XXS to XXL and beyond. It makes sense, of course, he’s seen aliens bigger than humans could ever get and it is only logical that they might require something _more_ to satisfy themselves.

Keith hovers. Regardless of the small range of models or purposes, he’s still intimidated—although he knows, with dead certainty, he’ll end up going home with _something_.

“Can I help you?” the lady at the counter finally asks, like she’s noticing his hesitation.

“Um,” Keith starts. He takes a deep breath and decides that if she works here, she’s seen plenty of stuff. Buying sex toys isn’t something to be _embarrassed_ about. “I am looking for—something, I guess. I’ve never been to one of these places before?”

She nods, putting aside her magazine and coming up to stand beside him. “Is there anything you’re particular towards? Are you looking to accommodate to penetrating or receiving genitals?”

Keith blanks for a moment.

“Would you fuck your partner or get fucked?” she rephrases.

“Uh,” he stammers. “Both, I guess?”

“Altean biology?” she guesses, and Keith decides to nod, although he’s not entirely sure. “Okay, so for your external organs, we’ve got a bunch of different toys—rings, sleeves, things like that. Then for penetration—you have a pleasure-spot, right?” and he nods again, assuming she means his prostate, “we have internal massagers that can be adjusted to both your species’ and personal needs.”

Her explanation explains what some of the toys are targeted towards—he can see that they’ve been ordered by purpose—_external and internal organs_—but that doesn’t make the choice any less intimidating.

The lady must understand because she reaches for a white box that shows a picture of a silver half-ring on its front. “You’re not full Altean, are you?”

“Half Galra, actually,” he mutters, watching her unpack.

“Okay, yeah.” She grabs Keith’s wrist and for a moment he thinks she might try something inappropriate, but she turns up his palm and the brushed metal toy drops into his hand. He runs his fingers over it, feeling how smooth and cold it is, its pleasant weight. “You might enjoy this, it’s one of our most popular items. Pretty new, too, it works using small quintessence crystals.”

“What does it do?” he asks.

“It prevents orgasm,” she states.

Keith balks and she laughs and shakes her head.

“If you are fucking a partner, you can last indefinitely using this toy. Most species with penetrative organs either suffer from issues or are simply looking for a way to extend intercourse. And of course, this also increases the pleasure you experience.”

Keith licks his lips. He’s _tried_ edging before—but she’s right, he’s never been particularly successful, too quick to give in to pleasure and eager to blame it on his Galra side. “So, I wouldn’t be able to come at all?”

She shakes her head. “The toy comes with remote control.” And indeed, she reaches back in the box and takes out a small control panel that lights up as she turns it on. The ring gently vibrates in Keith’s hand, briefly lighting up with blue light before it lies still again. “You can change its settings; some people prefer not to achieve a state of arousal at all while others would simply like to prevent orgasm for a set duration of time. Of course, unless you use the timer function, you can turn off the preventative measures at any time and allow yourself to achieve climax.”

The way she explains it is clinical and strangely comforts Keith—like she knows what she’s doing, is keen on explaining it to anyone who will listen, regardless of species, gender or genitals.

“Okay,” he nods, feeling a flush creep up his cheeks.

She looks at him a little longer. “You know what?” she says. “I don’t meet many other half-Galra here. Usually, my customers are full blood Galra, Unilu, or different species. We are pretty rare, these parts. I can offer a discount.”

Keith nods, a little uncertain but intrigued by the small device in his hand. It’s not a full circle, more like a semicircle that the picture on the box indicates he should place around his dick. He supposes it’ll stay on, adhere to his body on account of the quintessence, and it looks to be the right size for most humans—it doesn’t need to fit snugly, apparently.

“I’ll get it,” he decides. “Uh. Do you also sell lube?”

The lady smiles and relaxes her shoulders a little as she nods. “Yes. We have a substantial selection of personal lubricants, oil and water-based, with flavours including pineapple, bacon, food goo—”

Keith follows her over.

* * *

He ends up leaving with more than he bargained for, and a wallet that is significantly lighter. He has plenty of GAC left, and he won’t be running out of food on board of the castle, but he still feels like he possibly indulged a little too much.

The paper bag he clutches is white and discreet. It is loaded with not just the ring but also a couple of bottles of lube, a fleshlight, and a small vibrator that he is keen to try out, not in the least because its sleek black design caters nicely to some of his more secret fantasies.

Lance pries for information but he shrugs it off, doesn’t answer the questions, and eventually, he shuts up. Everyone else knows to respect his privacy, although he thinks Shiro might be racking his brain on which shop could’ve used that type of bag. His eyes keep flitting over; Keith wonders if he suspects something, and feels the rush of blood between his legs.

Once back in his room, he first stalls out the boxes side by side and then unpacks them, starting with the lube and finishing with the semicircle. He’s indulged more than he’s ever allowed himself to before—Keith’s never been a big spender because he doesn’t see the appeal in owning items he’ll end up leaving behind. But he’s on board of an alien spaceship with too much downtime, and finally he’s able to buy luxury items for himself.

If these _can_ be considered luxury items at all, of course. He might not _acutely _need them, but his hope is that maybe he can spar with Shiro without becoming flustered and needing to leaving early, before he embarrasses himself.

All the toys belong to the same brand. The ring’s metal has a laid-in blue light; the fleshlight is brushed metal encasing a white sleeve that has a hole that doesn’t quite look like an asshole _or _pussy. The vibrator, too, is made of the same metal and blue lights running along its side. He hadn’t realised before, but the shopkeeper threw in a small pack of quantum crystals, space-batteries he supposes. Hopefully, they’ll last him some time. He can’t imagine having to go up to Coran or Pidge to specifically ask for these crystals and risk an interrogation into what he needs them for.

He picks them up in turn; they’re all smooth and cool, but the metal warms up quickly when he fumbles around with the vibrator, trying different settings to figure out what he likes. Initially, he does so by putting the tip to the top of his hand, but since he’s half-hard anyway he figures he might as well press it against his dick, flipping through smooth and fast vibrations, through quick short bursts that leave him gasping and on the verge of coming.

He’s tempted to fuck the fleshlight or keep the vibrator pushed against his frenulum through his soft underwear; he ends up washing his hands and face in the bathroom to calm down, willing his dick to behave.

He is most curious about the toy that cost over half of what he spent; the other two will work, and they will not necessarily be out of the ordinary. The one meant to keep him from coming, though—he is desperate to find out whether it works.

And so, he sits through dinner with the heavy feeling of arousal pooling deep in his guts, flushing whenever he remembers what he’s about to do.

* * *

Back in his room, he takes a shower.

Keith’s not sure why he’s so keen on drawing things out—but he makes sure he washes himself thoroughly, and avoids touching his dick, already plumping up between his legs. For a moment he enjoys the feeling of the spray against his hardening flesh and then he forces himself to step away so he can move on with his plan. After clearing his bed, putting the other toys back into their boxes and shoving them into a drawer, Keith lies back on his sheets and takes a few deep breaths.

The toy is cool against his skin, nestled between the dark hairs and staying there, stuck in place. He’s turned it on but fiddles around with the settings a little—to his consternation, turning up the intensity visibly wilts his erection and he decides that’s not for him. Maybe when he next has to fight Shiro, although then it certainly would not be a sexual thing, only precaution.

Once his cock is hard again, he tentatively touches his finger to the base. He’s desperate to get off—it’s been a few days since he’s had time to, and he’s still not quite convinced that the semicircle will work.

After some light teasing, he curls his hand around the meat of his dick, sighing deeply. At least this feels satisfactory, the touch itself a relief even if he’s nowhere near orgasm.

He stops worrying about the toy so much after that, instead of focusing on the satisfaction of masturbation. Like always, it makes him feel good. The pleasure slowly increases as he tugs on his dick, pulling his foreskin down to expose the head and swipe up the first dribble of precome, using it to slick his finger as he rubs his frenulum.

“_Oh_,” he groans, closing his eyes and shifting his hips a little before planting his feet on the bed, spreading his legs wide. He slips into fantasy, imagines Shiro watching him do this, quietly encouraging him while jerking off. Thinking about his captain might be pushing the boundaries of what is proper, but Keith had a crush on him _before_ they became best friends and he’s never been able to shake it. A few hazy kisses over the years and a drunken tumble a couple of months ago only served to reignite his feelings. At this point, he doesn’t even try anymore—what Shiro doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The pleasure in his guts grows in intensity, and while he knows that the toy should stop him from coming, Keith doesn’t want to risk it yet. Instead, he takes a break to pour cold lube onto his dick, grunting at the not-quite-discomfort. He probably doesn’t need this much to slick himself down, but he _wants_ it there, he likes it a little messy when he’s got the time.

The lube spreads around, and while he returns his right hand to his dick, he uses his left to cup his balls, squeeze at them, to press his slick middle finger to the sensitive skin behind them and groan at the touch. Even keeping his touches slow, the double stimulation and memory of Shiro encouraging him, telling him _you look so good, come on, come for me_ nudges him closer.

He’s helpless now—even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take his hands off himself. He dips the left even lower, rubs two fingers over his hole before pressing just inside, and squeezing his right hand just below the head of his dick. He jerks off faster, occasionally taking a break to rub at the frenulum and push himself ever closer in the direction of orgasm, the tension building into a dull ache as his legs drop open wider.

In the back of his mind, he registers that normally, he could have come by this point—although the orgasm would have been unsatisfactory, maybe. Maybe it’s the fingers up his ass, the strangeness of something he doesn’t do particularly often, keeping him from tipping over the edge.

But the feeling keeps growing in intensity, his muscles tightening impossibly and his dick squeezing out more precome. He’s gasping by now, sweat breaking out across his chest as his body tries to come but continues to find it can’t. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore, tense all over and nearly unable to breathe until he lets go of his dick and the feeling slowly subsides.

He’s shaking when he looks down at his hands; the tip of his dick has flushed purple and he’s harder than he’s ever been, every cell in his body screaming for release. He decides to try again—this time the feeling builds faster, and he lasts a little longer before he whimpers and gives up.

The third time, he almost screams, his hips pushing up into his hand before he twitches away; the overstimulation is too much against raw, exposed nerves, his skin flushing as he continues to gasp out breaths. He wants to come, _needs_ to come, he has never needed something _more _in his life.

Letting go of his dick, he turns to the side and reaches for the box that contains the fleshlight. Through a haze, he knows wants this to be big, functioning on _instinct_ right now.

“Shit,” he mutters as he pulls the toy free. He pours more cold lube onto his dick and shivers and groans through it again, his fingers trembling as he lines up the head of his dick with the hole before sinking his throbbing flesh into the smooth cool sleeve.

He throws his head back and fucks into it, writhing on the bed, gasping and whimpering. The suction created around his cock is amazing, mind-blowing, more intense than his hands could feel, and then he’s scrambling for the remote control so he can finally come, on edge for too long, breathless with desperation.

The moment he hits the off button, he’s tipping over the edge and pumping his come into the toy. He can’t stop the wail that escapes him, pleasure flowing through his entire body as his muscles contract, relax; it seems to be going forever. His toes curl into the sheets as his hips push up into the hole, stimulated from the tip to the base as he fucks in as deep as he can. The corners of his eyes are wet and he covers his mouth with his free hand, screaming uncontrollably against his palm and gasping through his fingers.

Finally, he comes down, moves the toy up and down a few times, watching the twitch of the base of his dick through the aftershocks of an orgasm that has left him weak to his knees. His hands and feet are shaking and his breath only slowly regains its rhythm.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, leaving the fleshlight on until he’s too sensitive to stand it. The material hasn’t even had a chance to fully warm through, still cool against his cock and pleasurable because of that, like he has someone’s mouth on his dick and cleaning him up.

He finally pulls the toy off with still shaking hands, releasing the vacuum and watching his own cum drip onto his cock. Then he turns to the cockring and finds it releases from his skin easily; slippery with lube and come, it takes a few tries before he can pick it up and dumping it to the floor alongside the fleshlight.

Ideally, he knows, he should clean both toys right now. He knows he’ll be spending more time in the morning if he doesn’t, that he could potentially ruin them although he paid good money. But he’s more relaxed than he’s been in ages; overwhelmed by the urge to go to sleep he gives in, using a corner of the sheets to clean himself before he crawls under them and drifts off.

* * *

The next morning is a humbling experience.

His come has dried in the hair at the base of his dick, on his belly; it’s gone part glue and part crust on his fleshlight, and he spends some time rinsing the inner sleeve in the sink before he lets it soak over breakfast.

After everything is clean and stowed back into their boxes, Keith heaves out a deep breath.

Even amidst the embarrassment of falling asleep in his own mess, he already wants _more_.

All day long, he catches himself looking forward to getting alone time, planning what he wants to do next. The ring again, for sure; maybe he can fuck himself with the dildo. He wants to see how long he can last not pushing himself as far right away, taking things easy instead but maybe doing it longer.

By the time he’s back alone, he’s been half-hard for hours, flushed with excitement. Shiro asked if he was okay and he definitely _is_; he just needs _more_. Of this.

But even knowing that he _should_ take things slow doesn’t mean that he manages to moderate his touch. He’s too eager for more, too hard, and that evening he doesn’t even manage to get the toy turned on before he spills over his stomach, moaning quietly.

Maybe he needs more practice and a different approach.

* * *

A weekend later, Keith finally tries again.

He’s blocked out a full afternoon for his experiment and he has read the manual, using an Altean universal translator. He’s still not fully sure of how some things work, but he’s keen to at least keep himself on edge for a few hours; he knows that he might not be able to touch himself continuously, but Keith thinks he’d _like_ to. He wants to see how that’ll make him feel.

“Shit,” he grumbles as he places the toy above his soft cock.

The idea of not coming for the next five hours is terrifying, but he’s never shied away from a challenge before. He hits the button and the toy’s lights blink on; there’s no stopping this now and in a moment of panic, he considers heading for the training deck instead of masturbating.

Instead, he strokes himself to full hardness. Two fingers, nothing more, imagining that Shiro is telling him to take it easy—because that makes it easier, even if this version of him is fictional.

With the light, teasing touches, it takes nearly thirty minutes before he feels like coming at all. Instead of pushing on, he takes his hand off his cock. Still, he is panting, forcing the air in through his nose to calm down faster and staring up at the ceiling.

He knows he has the time. He knows he should pace himself, but already that has become difficult. Maybe they’re his Galra genes—he’s not sure, but he wants to push himself over the edge and dwell in the bliss of orgasm for a while, especially knowing that he could’ve gotten himself there several times in the span of five hours. At least he can be certain that _that_ won’t happen today.

He also can’t keep his hand off himself—he is idly teasing his fingers down his stomach and up his thighs, circumventing his leaking cock for now. His skin crawls with desperation; he whimpers as he grabs a hold of himself again and strokes faster and faster, bringing himself back to the edge.

He doesn’t stop in time then, or the next time. Within four cycles, he’s whimpering and sweating, pushing his hair back from his face—it sticks to his skin and Keith decides to go looking for a hair tie. When he sits up, he takes a couple of deep breaths. His dick is throbbing between his legs—he is barely an hour in, and already a dull ache is beginning to spread low in his guts.

The drawer pushed against the wall opposite his bed holds plenty of ties—after, he washes his hands and his face in the bathroom before returning to his bed. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Keith begins to touch himself again; brushing gentle and pleasantly cool fingers over his aching balls, curling his hand around his dick and moving slow.

Keith is too wound up; it takes minutes before he’s screaming in frustration, helplessly punching the mattress. He’s aware that his incisors are sharper, that his body is screaming in protest, that he_ needs_ to.

He doesn’t expect the knock on the door.

“Keith? Are you okay?”

_Shiro_. Shit. He takes a moment to breathe, to let the intensity subside and lick moisture into his mouth before responding. “Yeah!”

He doesn’t _sound_ okay and he knows it, his voice comes out shaky and rough and exactly the way illness would sound.

“Do you need help?”

Keith’s dick twitches hard in his hand and blurts out more precome, and he stifles another whine with his other hand now pushed over his mouth.

“Keith?” Shiro knocks harder.

He could have come like this, could have come to Shiro saying his name, and the past sixty minutes must have taken their toll on his sanity because somehow, he can barely muster up a simple response.

“I’m—_busy_,” he manages, whimpering again.

“Oh. _Oh_,” Shiro says. Keith knows that that one night didn’t mean much, that they were _drunk_ and horny, but Shiro must recognise the tone in his voice. He doesn’t sound turned off. “Keith—

“One moment,” he says, pulling up his trousers. He leaves the shirt for what it is.

Then the door slides open to expose Shiro, more flustered than Keith would have expected.

“_Busy_,” he repeats Keith.

Keith nods. He takes a deep breath before confessing, “I made a mistake.”

“Wait, what?” Shiro frowns before rising his eyebrows. “Did you um, put something where it shouldn’t go? I’ve seen posts about that online, I’m not judging you if you—”

“Stop,” Keith intercepts him. “_No_. No, I didn’t.” He groans as he shifts, the fabric of his pants rubbing over his hypersensitive dick; it draws Shiro’s attention down and his blush intensifies. “I got a toy. The space mall, there was a shop.”

Shiro nods, still waiting.

“And I got, I don’t know, it’s like a cockring but it won’t let you come.”

“It won’t let you—come? At all?” Keith nods. “Indefinitely?”

“No,” Keith tells him. “I just put the setting to five hours. That was sixty minutes ago.”

“So you’ll have to wait for another—four hours? A little longer?” Keith nods again. “Uh, and you need my help with that?”

Shiro doesn’t judge him, Keith knows that. Shiro is kind and loving, and he won’t ever look down on Keith—but he feels oddly vulnerable and hates asking for help, even though Shiro is offering.

“I can’t stand it,” he whispers. “I thought it would be a nice challenge but—I need a distraction, maybe. Just someone to hang out with till the time is up.”

Something in Shiro deflates when Keith tells him that, and he looks… _disappointed_. Maybe. Keith is too far out of his mind to tell. “Okay,” he says, sitting down on the bed beside Keith. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay,” Keith nods.

“Where did you find this shop anyway? I didn’t see it around.”

“I was just wandering around the mall, it was pretty inconspicuous, I guess? I didn’t really go looking but I figured I might as well buy some lube.” A strangled noise escapes Shiro’s throat and his fingers twist into the sheets. “Come on, most people like lube.” Something squeezes in his chest, excited, as he decides to break his own rule. “You _know_ that I do.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, his voice still tight. They haven’t talked about the night again, the slick slide of their cocks together until they came all over each other, messy and uncoordinated but so, _so_ good the way a fumble in the dark like that can only be when everyone involved is tipsy and horny.

“So, they had a bunch of toys on display, the lady there helped me, and I bought some stuff.” He takes a deep breath and grabs the box from its place on the floor—already he regrets not buying the pouches that would’ve held the toys.

He hands Shiro the ring’s box and he looks at it curiously, flipping over the cardboard to look at the diagrams on the back. “This just—attaches to you?” Keith nods. “And it won’t let you get off?” Keith shakes his head.

“There’s a bunch of settings,” he mutters. “The other day—” and he notices Shiro raking his eyes up and down his body at that, “I didn’t set a time limit, so I could just turn it off whenever I wanted.”

“Okay.” Shiro waits patiently for Keith to continue.

“And I wanted—we had all afternoon off, so I figured I’d set it to five hours.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro shakes his head and laughs quietly. “And now things are a little too _hard_?”

His smile is cheeky, his left cheek dimpling a bit and his eyes squeezing together. He looks young and amused and Keith reaches out to slap his arm. “Fuck off,” he grumbles. “I didn’t know it’d be difficult, okay? I didn’t really—” He needs a moment to recollect himself, to explain what exactly he struggles with. “I can’t stand pushing myself too far, because it’s really goddamn _intense_, but whenever I jerk off that’s what happens anyway.”

Shiro has gone even redder, shifting in place before he pulls at the fabric covering his dick. Keith recognises it as Shiro making himself comfortable and he shivers at the allusion.

“Let me rephrase,” Shiro says. “Just to make sure I understand. You put it to five hours to force yourself into edging,” and his voice cracks on the last word, kicking Keith’s heartbeat up a notch or two, “but you’re finding it difficult because the toy won’t allow you to come and the intensity of getting pushed too far is something you don’t enjoy?”

Keith shrugs helplessly. “It’s not something I don’t _enjoy_, I just—it’s a lot, Shiro. It’s _so much_.”

He wants to suggest that Shiro can borrow the toy, imagines the metal shining in the dark hair over Shiro’s heavy dick—he wants to see how _Shiro _would deal with five hours’ worth of intense edging. Keith just doesn’t know how to bring that up without sounding too eager.

“I’ll help you,” Shiro tells him then. “I mean, I can—if you want me to, of course. I’m okay with that.”

Keith nods, relieved. “So, what do you want to do?” He’s aware that this is Shiro’s day off too. “Watch a film? Borrow Pidge’s briscola?”

Shiro only looks at him, his gaze turning dark as he licks his lips. Keith feels his big hand on his thigh, slowly making its way up. “I can _help_ you,” he repeats. “With this.”

“Oh.” Keith’s words come out faintly, the offer unexpected although he thinks he hoped for them. “Yeah,” he nods, brain scrambling to get back on track, to respond appropriately. “_Yeah_, help me. Shiro, fuck.”

Immediately, Shiro presses his hand between Keith’s legs, although the pressure he exerts is more comforting than anything—certainly not enough to drive Keith closer to climax. Like Shiro knows exactly what he’s doing, and maybe he _does_, if he’s this into Keith edging. Maybe he has done this to himself.

Shiro’s breath is beginning to speed up and the front of his trousers is tenting. His cheeks are flushed, and he licks his lips until they’re shiny and pink and Keith desperately wants to pull him in for a kiss.

More than that, though, he wants to wait until Shiro tells him what to do.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes,” Shiro says. “You’ll be more comfortable.” Keith nods and gets up, allows Shiro to hook his fingers behind the elastic band to pull down his sweats, letting his dick bob free. “God, you look so sensitive,” he mutters. The head of Keith’s dick has turned lavender in colour and shines with precome. “So desperate to come.”

“_Shiro_,” Keith manages, his voice wrecked.

“I’ll take care of you, baby,” Shiro soothes him, looking up from his place on the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you feel good, that you’ll get through these next few hours.” Then he wraps his hand around Keith’s thigh and leads him closer until he stands between Shiro’s spread legs, his dick almost perfectly level with Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro takes his time, letting his breath ghost over Keith’s dick and nosing at the jut of his thigh before kissing his way up the hard flesh. Keith knows he’s shaking but Shiro keeps him in place, his hands digging into the meat of his thighs, just below his ass. His touches are gentle, amplifying the truth in Shiro’s words; even the way Shiro swallows down Keith’s dick is soothing.

He doesn’t bob his head up and down or suck hard. Instead, his mouth provides a gentle pressure around Keith’s dick, Shiro’s tongue resting against the most sensitive spot under the head, everything slick and hot and wet and comfortable for the first time in a long time.

Keith whimpers and closes his eyes; Shiro allows him to recalibrate, to get used to the feeling before he starts to move his tongue a little. All his movements are calculated and easy, nothing that’s going to get Keith off even as precome gushes from his cock and into Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro stops before this can become Keith’s new normal, pressing a kiss to Keith’s hipbone and telling him, “You taste so good.” He licks his lips clean and Keith knows that Shiro must’ve swallowed down the bitter bursts of precome

“Yeah?” he asks, a little shaky. “You like that?”

Shiro shrugs, then nods. “Yeah. Sucking dick is pretty good.”

Keith loses his breath for a moment and Shiro laughs. “No, you can’t just _say_ those things,” he tells Shiro. “You can’t!”

“Well, you told me that you bought sex toys and were planning to jerk off for _five hours_ without being able to come,” Shiro cheekily retorts. “I’d say that’s probably worse.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Keith rolls his eyes.

“Fuck?” Shiro smirks, although Keith doesn’t miss the hitch of his chest. “That’s what you want?”

And it certainly is something Keith is up for, although not right now. _Another time_. Shiro sees, because Shiro can read Keith like no other, and nods.

“Later, okay. Let’s get you back on the bed, though.”

Keith allows Shiro’s hands to guide him down, touches that make him feel like a skittish horse that needs to be calmed—and maybe he is, twitching with nervous arousal, his dick still painfully hard and his balls heavy and tender. He’s beginning to feel sore.

Shiro pushes Keith’s legs wider apart and strokes him, between his legs and over his stomach and chest. While it’s much like what Keith did earlier, the sensations spreading through his body are incomparable—Shiro isn’t touching him to tease or turn him on, necessarily, but to soothe. The pressure he exerts is firm and slow, avoiding most of the places that would let Keith gasp in pleasure.

He barely notices the tightness in his belly giving way to something lighter, to his lungs filling more easily, until Shiro lets his hand rest in the hair just above Keith’s dick, over the toy.

“This is it?” he asks, tracing the metal with his fingers, lingering over the flickering blue lights in the middle.

Keith nods. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Shiro hums and licks his lips. “I should borrow this from you sometime.”

“It has remote control,” he mutters. “You could—”

Shiro smiles, then curls three metal fingers around the base of Keith’s dick, cutting him off. “I _could_,” he says. “Or… I could make you wait even longer.” Keith can’t help the whine that escapes him, his hips bucking up on their own accord and the subsequent gasp. “I could turn it off and then back on the moment you’re starting to come, I wonder what that’d do to you.”

“Oh shit,” Keith whimpers again and tries to fuck up into Shiro’s fist again, but his other hand comes down to rest on Keith’s hip, preventing him from doing so.

“Hold on,” Shiro mutters. “Patience.”

“Yields focus?” Keith chokes out, squeezing his eyes closed. He knew Shiro would tease him, but he didn’t expect he would know exactly how to touch Keith—he must remember from the last time, from the sounds he’d coaxed from Keith’s throat with his mouth pressed hot to his neck, taking his time rolling his hips down until Keith spilled over his stomach.

He knows he won’t get there now; he knows that he’s going to be begging for more soon if Shiro keeps this up.

“Tell me when you’re getting close,” Shiro murmurs, crawling further onto the bed and sitting cross-legged with Keith’s legs thrown over his thighs. He’s on full display like this, his dick and his hole on display for Shiro, and the exposure, the odd position, the air against his overheated skin turn him on beyond expectation.

“I already am, I don’t—” he gasps, because he would be coming by now, feels the sudden build and the twitch of his dick that feels like an almost-orgasm, like he’s standing on a precipice and is about to tumble off—

And the toy kicks in and Shiro stops touching him, no release splattering onto his stomach but only a fat drop of precome dripping down hard flesh as his muscles clench together.

“You look gorgeous,” Shiro says, and Keith whimpers again. “Especially like this, losing your mind, and I’m helping you.”

He rubs his hand over Keith’s lower belly, and he’s turned on enough that even this touch rickets to his cock; then Shiro moves over his hip in soothing circles.

Slowly, he relaxes. Shiro doesn’t force anything, he just lets Keith lie there with his cock leaking, pushing his hips up into the air in desperation, wanting to feel something more than torturous anticipation.

He’s still painfully hard when he finally settles back onto the bed, but at least his focus has shifted towards the calluses on Shiro’s hands, the soothing whisper of his voice as he tells Keith, “You’re doing so well, Keith. Come on, breathe for me. That’s right—yeah, _great_.”

Finally, he stretches his arms and groans. His hips shimmy in place again but he can look up at Shiro now, finally a little calmer. “Fucking hell,” he says, licking his lips. “I did think you’d be taking it easier.”

Shiro smirks, using his thumb to drag a line from Keith’s crotch down to his knee where he rests his hand. “I’m here to talk you through it,” he says. “_And_ I’m here to make you feel great.”

Keith nods, dropping his gaze down to the bulge between Shiro’s legs. He wants to see, but he doesn’t think he can deal with watching someone else get off right now.

“And I’m here,” Shiro drops his voice, “because I like seeing you like this, and I’m sad that I didn’t get to see what you got up to on your own when you first got the toy.”

Keith nods. “I can tell you.” He watches Shiro’s eyebrows lift, the squeeze of the hand on his knee. “I lasted maybe thirty minutes, and I don’t usually get there. But God, I pushed myself too far the first few times and it almost hurt, but I didn’t just—didn’t want to come on myself.”

He closes his eyes as he remembers the slick hole sucking down his cock, as he remembers the feeling of coming into the tight pocket. Now, Shiro’s warm fingers trail up and down the underside of his cock, letting him shiver again but no more than that.

“What did you do instead?” Shiro asks. “What did you come onto?”

“Into,” Keith corrects, eyes closed and his core filled with liquid pleasure. The build-up has begun again, and he thinks he might need to tell Shiro to stop soon. “I got a fleshlight as well.”

Shiro’s touch falters for a moment, then speeds up over the hitch of Shiro’s breath. “You did?” he asks.

Keith grunts, tries to push his hips back up into Shiro’s touch; it’s useless, he takes his hand off Keith immediately and doesn’t return until Keith settles back down on the bed.

“How did it feel?” Shiro asks.

“So fucking good,” Keith mutters. His mind floods with images of lending Shiro the toy, watching him fuck it and moan and pretend that it’s his own ass Shiro is pounding into.

“Yeah?” Shiro presses down a little harder, teases circles around Keith’s frenulum. “Can you be more specific?”

“It was pretty cool,” Keith says, gasping when Shiro finally strokes the connective band of tissue. “Cold, I mean. Soft, all around my cock, kind of like your mouth but even softer and sucking vacuum—_oh_.” Shiro’s hand is back around his dick, pulling his foreskin up over the head torturously slowly.

“Did you come inside it? Feel your come hot around your dick?”

Keith nods, remembers that, too, the satisfaction of filling up something rather than letting loose in the air. “Yeah,” he manages, even as Shiro continues to touch him far too slow—even as he is nearing the edge again. “Loved filling it.”

Shiro hums and his grin turns sharp. “Would you want to fill up something else, maybe?” Licks his lips, and Keith remembers how _that_ felt on his cock too.

“Oh fuck, Shiro—stop, I can’t, oh fuck—” his breath hitches and his dick twitches, harder than before, but nothing comes out. He’s _achingly_ close, and then Shiro is cupping his balls but it’s still not enough to tip him over the edge. This time, Keith sobs, his hips jerking up as he curls a hand into the sheets. “Fuck,” he repeats, “oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shh,” Shiro tells him. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I just need to _come_,” he whimpers. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he turned on the device, and he’s not sure if he _wants_ to know—he’s beginning to fall apart, his balls and the muscles deep in his core aching from the overexertion, the entire area now throbbing hot.

When it comes, Shiro’s metal hand is a cool comfort. Keith takes in deep heaving breaths as the toy slowly pulls him back from the point of no return, lets him hit a plateau of pleasure that’s manageable again.

“Does the cold feel good?” Shiro asks, and he nods, closing his eyes. “Hang on, I’ll grab a washcloth.”

He gently lifts Keith’s legs out of his lap, letting them rest on the mattress. Keith reaches for his dick when Shiro is gone, his arousal like an itch that he’s trying his best to scratch, but the harder he scratches, the more intense the feeling grows. He doesn’t think he’s been this turned on in his life, and he’s jacked off in strange places before because he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Hey,” Shiro says when he returns, lifting Keith’s hand from his cock and replacing it with the wet towel. The weight is heavy, the towel cold and soaked through with water—he’d expected a washcloth, maybe, not this.

Keith tries to buck up into it, the weight enough to spur him on; this time, he feels how hot his precome contrasts with the waterlogged weight.

“C’mon,” Shiro says, spreading Keith’s legs a little and pressing the towel further down until it covers his balls too, down to his ass where he’s lying on the mattress. “If you stop moving, the feeling will subside quicker.”

“I know,” Keith whimpers but he can’t—not until Shiro crawls onto the bed next to him. He’s in his underwear now—Keith didn’t see him undress. His undershirt is soft, and Keith turns his face into it while Shiro pushes his hand down again, increasing the pressure as well as Keith’s inability to move until it becomes something he could get used to, at least for a while.

Shiro’s fingers play over his face and he turns into the touch, lets Shiro lean down and kiss him. He’s gentle, cupping Keith’s face and taking his time, his hips pressing to Keith’s side; he feels Shiro’s hard dick, but he isn’t acting on it. Keith is glad for that; Shiro is putting him before all else, including his pleasure.

And the cool pressure between his leg helps him cool down a little. He’s pretty sure that Shiro’s kisses take ten, twenty minutes at least, and maybe longer, until Keith is floating in a space that consists of Shiro and the dull but persistent arousal in his body.

Eventually, however, Shiro’s hand does wander back down. The towel is warm by then, Keith’s body heating up the fabric, and when Shiro throws it aside the air is pleasantly cold against his skin.

He nips at Keith’s lips when he grabs his heavy cock, slowly stroking him. Keith sighs into it, eager for the touch as always, spreading his legs a little. Shiro grunts, pushing his own hips forward, rubbing his cock up against Keith’s thigh.

“You’re so hot like this,” he tells Keith, grinding against him again.

“Mmm,” Keith hums, opening his eyes. Shiro crawls up over him on all fours, rubbing the tenting front of his pants up against Keith’s cock. There’s a wet spot in the fabric, and Keith shudders when Shiro rolls their dicks together.

He lets it happen; Shiro is still teasing more than rubbing to get off. Keith’s dick still twitches traitorously a couple of times—he would have come, half-orgasms that would’ve spilled come onto his stomach; he could’ve scooped up the mess and used it to get off again.

“How much longer?” he whimpers.

Shiro slows the circling of his hips and reaches for the remote control. He’s affected by arousal too, the blush on his cheeks intensifying and a shiver running through his arms. Keith watches Shiro’s fingers curl into the sheets beside him.

“Two hours,” Shiro tells him.

Keith groans, nods, because although it is a stretch, at least it’s a _bit_ more manageable than. Shiro sits up, pulls Keith’s legs back over his thighs although he keeps his own legs stretched alongside Keith’s body this time, meaning that he can grab Shiro’s shins and squeeze hard once Shiro’s fingers brush over his hole.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asks, and Shiro’s breath hitches.

“Not today,” he tells Keith, and Keith keens because he wants that; he wants Shiro like this again another day. He wants Shiro in every way possible. “You had lube, right?”

Keith nods.

“And the other toys?”

“Fuck,” he whimpers. “Yeah, they’re—they’re in the boxes in the top drawer.”

Shiro slides open the drawer and finds them easily, then takes his time looking at the fleshlight before shoving his fingers into it. The movement looks almost compulsory and then Shiro raises his eyebrows, scissoring his fingers to test the material’s stretch before pulling out. Then he reaches for the vibrator and Keith’s chest tightens as Shiro runs his fingers up and down the same way he touched Keith’s cock minutes ago.

He’s not jealous of a piece of metal, of course.

Well. Maybe just a little.

He doesn’t beg Shiro for more of his touch, though; instead, he watches him put the toys aside before uncapping the lube and squirting some onto his fingers.

He rubs the pads of his fingers over Keith’s rim, and Keith grinds into the feeling right away. _This is good_, he decides, more comfortable than the too-much pleasure ricocheting through his body when his dick is touched.

Keith grunts; it’s been a while since he last fingered himself and Shiro’s finger is bigger and pushes deeper more easily. He curls his finger, fucking Keith until he finds his prostate and Keith moans.

“That’s it, right?” Shiro mutters.

“Yeah,” Keith confirms and Shiro keeps going, massaging his prostate with prodding motions. He does feel the molten hot pressure build again, this time somewhere deeper inside of him, in his core, and he wonders if maybe this is the trick—maybe he can come like this because it’s not his dick.

Shiro pulls out before Keith gets there, or close at all. Instead, he circles his fingers over Keith’s hole a few more times, firmly pressing his knuckle over it, and finally wiping his hand clean on Keith’s sheets.

Cold metal replaces Shiro’s finger and it’s not much bigger, maybe the diameter of two of Shiro’s fingers although round—he hadn’t wanted to go for more, afraid that a size up would be too big already. Shiro adds the lube directly to where Keith’s skin meets the toy and begins to push it in ever so slowly, allowing Keith to feel every inch of the stretch and accommodate to it.

Shiro hasn’t turned on the toy and Keith doesn’t know if he will—doesn’t know if Shiro is aware of the vibrator function nor does he know whether Shiro knows how the toy works at all.

“Please,” he whimpers, but Shiro shakes his head.

“Not right now, babe, I’m gonna take this slow. Anything more would be too much, don’t you think?”

And he does, fucking Keith slow enough with the toy that he’s barely distracted from the pain.

“Don’t you need to get off?” Keith asks him, and Shiro laughs.

“I do, but I thought I’d hold out in solidarity?”

“Tell me,” he mumbles. “What you’d do if I _could_ get off right now.”

“What, like a bedtime story?” Shiro jokes, jostling the toy in Keith’s ass and brushing his prostate.

“We’re already in bed,” Keith retorts. “That makes this bedtime. Tell me.”

Shiro laughs harder. “You’re not wrong, I guess. I’d—I’d want to fuck you but hold off. I’d push our cocks together, rub myself up against you till you came.” That is what they did last time, and Shiro smiles when he notices Keith watching his face for clues. “Or I’d rub my dick against your ass, I bet you’d like that.” Keith nods and spreads his legs wider, pushing his ass down onto the toy. “But I’m also enjoying this, so much. Love seeing you this desperate, this flushed.”

“God,” Keith mutters.

“Close your eyes for me?”

Keith nods and he knows that Shiro is going to do something, is planning something. Lube drips cold onto his cock and then he feels the soft plushness of the fleshlight's opening pushing down on his cock until it gives way and his dick slides in. “Oh fuck,” he groans, tilting up his hips until the toy meets the base of his cock.

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Fucking hell, yeah,” Keith groans, biting down on his lip as he tries to keep himself from moving his hips too much. He knows he should have come like this, even without Shiro moving the fleshlight or vibrator.

The moment Shiro _does_ move the fleshlight, Keith’s body seizes up. His muscles clamp down so hard that he can’t breathe, his balls burning. His thighs are trembling, and precome spills from his cock like it’s a substitute for an orgasm, his body trying to release tension that has been building far too long, far too much.

“Holy shit,” Shiro whimpers, rubbing his thumb over the base of Keith’s cock and then down to his balls.

“Stop, stop,” Keith begs this time, his body still on fire, every fibre inside of him screaming with the need to come. The tears that squeeze from his eyes are cool against his flushed cheeks.

Shiro slows the toy and then pulls it off, leaving Keith shaking still, his dick now flushed a deep purple and drooling a steady stream of precome onto his belly. The toy in his ass gives him something to squeeze around as he comes down, struggling to deal with a lack of stimulus.

Finally, he regains his breath and twists his legs around Shiro, pushing back against the dildo.

Shiro is looking at the fleshlight with curious eyes; Keith remembers his earlier thoughts and takes a deep breath before speaking. “You can try it,” he tells Shiro through his haze. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and he would like some water, but he can wait.

“What?” Shiro looks up, and Keith knows that he heard damn well what he said.

“The fleshlight,” Keith says. “Try it.”

“Without cleaning it?” Shiro asks. His voice has dropped and gone rough, and Keith can feel the trapped head of Shiro’s dick twitch against his thigh.

He nods. “I’m clean, anyway,” he says.

Shiro hesitates momentarily, and then his touch is gone from Keith’s leg. He reaches down and pulls aside his black boxer-briefs, pulling his dick from the leg hole. It bobs in the air as he rubs the fleshlight over the flushed head, and he groans. “I’m not gonna last if I do this, Keith.”

And he’d wanted to see Shiro wait, but more than that he wants to watch Shiro like this and he’s not sure he’ll have the guts to after he comes, snapping out of his fever-horny mindset.

“Do it anyway,” he insists. “I wanna see, wanna see you—” his breath catches in his throat and he needs to swallow, regain his composure. “Wanna see you fuck the toy the way you’d fuck me.”

“Fucking hell,” Shiro grunts, and then he pushes his dick into the soft, wet hole.

Shiro’s dick looks bigger like this, stretching the white silicone around his swollen dick, and Keith tries but fails to imagine what it’d feel like, squeezing around the toy Shiro left inside him. Slowly, Shiro starts to move the fleshlight up and down before apparently rethinking. He keeps the toy on his dick as he changes his position until he’s back on his knees, balancing on one arm as he leans over Keith.

Keeping the toy in place, he starts to push his hips forward. After a little while, he finds a good balance and a nice smooth rhythm that Keith wants to feel inside of him; but now, he takes his time watching Shiro’s concentrated frown, the pull of his mouth as his breathing grows laboured, the increasingly desperate snap of his hips and the slapping sound that follows.

“_Guh_,” Shiro groans, shaking his fringe from his eyes. “I _can’t_—”

Then he sits back on his haunches, pulling the toy upright so Keith can watch the pumping of his muscles, his dick, as he fills up the toy. Shiro’s closed his eyes and he quietly grunts through his orgasm.

Keith is still watching Shiro when he lazily blinks open his eyes, still slowly moving the toy on his cock.

He carefully slides it off, revealing his dick glistening in the light and redder than before, slowly softening now that he’s gotten off.

“Holy shit,” Shiro heaves out on a breath, looking at the toy again.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees on a shiver of a breath. “I’m—wow.”

Finally, Shiro puts the fleshlight away, carefully placing it on the floor so none of his come drips out. Then he leans down over Keith again, slowly kissing him.

“That good?” Keith asks Shiro. He’s enjoying the quiet reprieve, Shiro’s languid kisses, like they have all the time in the world. They might not—just the rest of this Saturday, for now—but he likes the idea. Likes the thought they might return to this some other day, with more kisses, more skin.

He allows Shiro to touch him all over again, find the spots that make Keith shiver or twitch away—first with his fingers, then with his mouth. He’s still slow-moving, and Keith is trying to enjoy himself, but he’s growing uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to let it on—he can’t have much more than an hour to go and pissing with morning wood sounds like a breeze compared to this.

“You’re shifty,” Shiro points out, barely lifting his mouth from Keith’s ribcage. “Uncomfortable.”

“I need the bathroom,” Keith confesses.

“Mm. So go, I’ll be here when you get back.” Shiro rolls off him and looks at him with soft eyes—like he can’t get enough of Keith.

And Keith’s muscles are made of jelly, so Shiro ends up sliding out the dildo and helping him to the small en-suite. When he hesitates in front of the toilet, Shiro suggests going in the shower because, “It’ll be easier, less of a mess.”

His cheeks continue to burn after Shiro leaves—he’s embarrassed, needing this much help because of something he brought on himself.

It takes a while before he can relax enough to let go, his boner barely wavering even when the tepid water begins to cool his overheating skin—and afterwards, he rinses down the walls and uses soap to clean his hands and his legs, sticky with sweat, lube, and precome.

He does feel a little better after that, not just more comfortable physically but cleaner, clearer-headed.

Shiro, true to his word, is lying on the bed and waiting for him. Better yet—he stripped out of his underwear and Keith takes a moment to take in the view.

“Decided to take a quick shower.” The clarification is superfluous, but he needs something to say as he crawls in beside Shiro. Casual conversation, to break the tension that might only exist inside his own head.

He turns his back to Shiro’s chest and Shiro’s hand curls around his hip right away, resting over his lower belly, his fingertips brushing the base of his cock. “Do you want me to keep touching you?”

Keith nods. His muscles are fatiguing, and he’s still overstimulated and sore. Something soothing, something easy, something that provides him with minimal stimulation sounds great. When there’s nothing, his hard-on is too distracting, and he can’t focus on anything else but finding friction.

Shiro’s breath is hot on his neck as he gently strokes him. Keith closes his eyes; this is what he’d hoped for when he decided to edge himself. Of course, that didn’t include Shiro plastered to his back—it couldn’t have in his wildest dreams.

But here he is, moaning quietly with Shiro’s hand on his hard-on and Shiro’s cock filling up. It presses against his ass, but Keith doesn’t grind back against it.

“You could’ve used your other arm,” he tells Shiro instead. All day, he’s been favouring his left arm and Keith—he doesn’t mind. Not the metal, not the idea that it’s Galra technology. Not what Shiro must have done with it. “I don’t mind.”

Shiro chuckles against his skin. “I _do_. But it’s—it’s not a trauma thing.”

That surprises him. “It’s not?” He’d thought that Shiro would’ve despised his arm, and all that it stood for.

“I’d rather still have had my own, sure,” Shiro tells him, his breath ghosting over Keith’s skin and letting him shiver—he kisses Keith’s neck before continuing. “I’ve had it long enough that it feels like mine, though. It just—feels _less_.”

He lightly squeezes Keith’s dick before resuming the whispering touches of before. Keith groans—this time he does shift his hips back against Shiro, who doesn’t move.

“I can feel most things—but not how _warm_ your dick is,” he murmurs, “or your precome getting sticky. And I _like_ feeling those things, Keith. Your dick feels so good in my hand.”

Keith chokes out another groan, his dick jumping in Shiro’s grasp. He’s not going to admit it, but if it weren’t for the toy, he would have come at those words.

“C’mon,” Shiro mutters, shifting away and pushing Keith to his back. Then he is all over him, his hands roaming Keith’s skin, skirting around his cock. Instead, he picks the lube back up and slicks his metal fingers, slowly pushing two of them inside of Keith and letting his thumb rest behind his balls.

Keith grinds down onto Shiro’s hand, groaning when Shiro curls up his fingers and pleasure rolls through him.

“_Please_,” he begs, spreading his legs wider. He wants Shiro to fuck him, wants Shiro to blow him, wants Shiro’s free hand on him—and he’s getting nothing.

“You’re almost there,” Shiro mutters.

Keith’s dick is throbbing and leaking, and Keith feels the mattress under his back damp with sweat. His chest constricts again, his hips locking as he wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist, trying to pull him closer. He can’t stop himself from bucking his hips into the air—and then into Shiro’s warm fist, more lube-slick skin on offer just for him, just for this.

He is desperately trying to rush to the finish.

“Slow down, babe,” Shiro hushes him. “I said _almost_. You’re not quite there yet.”

Keith whines but focuses on Shiro’s words, closing his eyes again because it helps. The tension in his body continues to grow; he can feel it in his toes and the tip of his tongue as his entire body gears up for release.

The build-up is impossibly intense after being denied what he wants so often; he’s had orgasms that felt less intense and he’s terrified, suddenly. He’s on a rollercoaster and about to drop fifty feet without seeing where the tracks will lead him.

His muscles clench up again, and he’s grateful for Shiro’s fingers inside of him easing the feeling; it gives him something to move against rather than aching emptiness. His hips stutter up in an awkward staccato, Shiro’s fingers tightening around his dick as he lets Keith do all the work.

“Shiro,” Keith babbles, “please, please, _please_.”

The last thread of his control snaps; his body burns with _need _and his mind sways, suspended in the wasteland between pleasure and pain.

Even though he’s been on the clock for five hours, Keith is caught by surprise.

One moment he is begging to come and ready to kill for it, and the next he is sent careening over the edge.

He howls helplessly as his body thrums and pulses with his orgasm, shooting come across his stomach, his chest. The rush of blood in his ears blocks out the quiet wet _thwack_ of Shiro’s hand on his cock, Shiro’s encouragements—but not Shiro’s touch, his warmth, his _presence_.

Only after the first waves, he can breathe, harsh gasps for air. The soreness finally eases out of his guts, out of his muscles, and warm pleasure takes its place. Slowly, his thoughts begin to return, oxygen does, the awareness of Shiro’s whispers close to his ear.

“There you go,” he hears. “Good boy, come on, I know you’re not done yet. You have so much stored in there, babe, keep fucking my hand.”

He’s right; when Keith looks down, he still feels aftershocks and watches as fresh come dribbles down Shiro’s fingers. The pleasure is like the aftertaste of his orgasm, but he shudders at the sight anyway.

“Oh _God_,” he finally wheezes. His voice is shakier than ever, broken, like someone is toying with the volume button, unfamiliar to his own ears.

Shiro uncurls his hand, letting Keith’s dick rest on his belly as it softens. He feels limbless, barely cognizant of Shiro wriggling the fingers of his right arm before pulling out.

He allows Shiro to lean in close, kissing his mouth and then his cheek. “Thank you for that,” he mutters against Keith’s sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” he mumbles finally. “Thank _you_.”

Shiro nods. His eyes have glazed over and his hand is moving between them again—taking care of himself, Keith realises, too spent to touch Shiro right now, although he finds really wants to. Another time, hopefully.

More wetness spreads between them as Shiro groans. “Shit, sorry—I should’ve asked—”

“Don’t worry,” Keith cuts him off, brushing a hand over Shiro’s shoulder. His fingers are trembling against the lovely slightly tan skin. Then he pushes himself up a little, kissing Shiro’s cheek in return to signify what he can’t put into words yet.

The sweat on his skin is beginning to cool in the draft of the Castle’s climate control. Shiro looks down but he hesitates, biting down on his lip before opening and closing his mouth, before eventually asking, “Do you need help getting into the shower?”

“Do I even _want_ to get into the shower,” Keith huffs, throwing his arm over his face. He doesn’t, not really, not if cuddling up to Shiro and falling asleep is an available option.

“Well,” Shiro shrugs, “I don’t know, but if you don’t, you’ll probably regret it tomorrow.”

Keith grumbles.

“Besides, if you do, I can change your sheets and flip the mattress to get rid of the wet spot.”

“There is no wet spot,” Keith protests, although he’s pretty sure that the entire mattress is soaked with sweat. The fabric is chilly against his back, unpleasant now that Shiro has mentioned it, and he winces.

Shiro snorts and shakes his head. “Come on.”

He follows Keith to the en-suite, where he helps him lower himself to the floor, sitting under the spray because his legs are shaking too hard to carry his weight, his muscles spent and aching.

The water cascades down his head and neck, washing the mess from his body. He watches their come wash down his skin and into the drain, along with invisible sweat, the precome that spread everywhere, lube and Shiro’s spit.

His fingers ache from grabbing the sheets, but he flexes them a few times and washes his hair anyway, the itch that comes from being too sweaty washing away with the suds. Keith is still cleaning up when Shiro returns, still gloriously naked, and tells him, “All done.”

Keith isn’t sure how Shiro manages to change sheets that quickly, but he doesn’t mind. Especially not once Shiro squeezes into the cubicle with him and helps Keith to his feet so he can rub down his back. He leans against the cold glass and watches Shiro rinse himself.

When he’s pulled in for a kiss, a strong arm around his waist, he lets out a noise of surprise.

“Shouldn’t I?” Shiro mumbles wetly against Keith’s lips.

“No, this is okay,” Keith assures him. “Didn’t expect you to, is all.”

“Ah,” Shiro smiles. “Yeah, I didn’t really expect anything like that to happen again—but certainly not like this.”

His heart stutters in his chest, his stomach flips with a trace of nervousness. “Because of you or because of me?”

“Both?” Shiro sighs. “I didn’t want to put you in a hard situation, and I didn’t know if you’d want me to do that again.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it anymore,” Keith confesses. “It seemed like a once off and I was going to take whatever I could.”

“Well, you took plenty today,” Shiro snorts, raising his eyebrow. Turning off the tap, he reaches over Keith to hand him a towel before grabbing a second for himself. “Was the wait worth it?”

Keith feels comfortable, warm and safe in his soft towel, and nods. “I think so. I wouldn’t go for five hours again. That was a mistake, Shiro.”

“Really? Not a happy accident?”

Keith thwacks Shiro’s arm. “No referencing famous painters when we’re naked, please?”

Shiro laughs, follows him out into Keith’s slightly more spacious bathroom. “Okay, that’s fair play.”

They towel down in silence, and Keith brushes his teeth sitting on the toilet lid. He continues to feel like he is about to fall over; he definitely needs some rest.

Shiro tucks him in and then sits down at the foot end, his legs stretched alongside Keith’s and ending somewhere near his waist.

“You don’t want to sleep?” he asks as Shiro pulls his datapad from his discarded jeans, unfolding the device.

“You might be exhausted after your five hours of play,” Shiro tells him, “but it’s only six pm. I’m going to wait till Hunk finishes dinner and bring you some.”

“I don’t want food,” Keith protests even as his stomach grumbles. He doesn’t want Shiro to leave him, feeling vulnerable and strange; he is pretty sure that something he doesn’t understand is happening.

“I’ll be five minutes,” Shiro consoles him. “And you probably need something to drink, too, after all that sweating.” The few gulps of water Keith drank after brushing his teeth probably don’t count, so he doesn’t protest.

“Okay,” he says, and he waits patiently.

Shiro returns with the food and a kiss.

* * *

The next time they visit the space mall, Shiro joins Keith in his meanderings.

He doesn’t really remember how he found the place last time, but he lets his instincts do their work—he walks into the general direction he remembers the shop being in, and it doesn’t take long before he finds the familiar tinted glass storefront.

Shiro’s eyes bulge a little when he sees the variety of toys, and Keith smirks because he remembers his first impression.

“Hey there,” the girl behind the counter says, chewing gum again and not looking up from her magazine.

“Hey,” Keith greets her—and her head jolts up. She keeps her expression carefully flat as she looks back and forth between Keith and Shiro, although he can tell that she is appreciative of his return and his company.

“Welcome back.” She slips into professionalism and Keith tries not to grin. “Were you satisfied with your past purchase or would you like to return an item?”

“Uh, we were looking for some more,” Shiro says. “Toys, I mean. And lube.”

“Yeah,” Keith confirms. “Definitely lube.”

The girl nods, says, “I can help,” and leads them through the store.

They don’t tell anybody what is in the three bags they take back to the ship. Keith wouldn’t know how to begin describing half of the devices—hell, they don’t know if they work on humans at all, but he’s eager to find out and he can count on Shiro helping him out.


End file.
